


slowly

by exactlyemma



Category: Firebringer - Team StarKid
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dialogue Light, F/F, What's the opposite of dialogue heavy, because this is it, canon is a lil rushed but i love it anyway, for once, i just wanted to give them some fluff, i shouldn't have doubted the tags i apologize, i'm just skimming over it, im not saying chorn didn't happen, other tribe members mentioned - Freeform, overusing italics, turns out there is a tag for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28353894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exactlyemma/pseuds/exactlyemma
Summary: it was sudden, when zazzalil offered to be jemilla's wife. jemilla said yes, of course, and in the moment she convinces herself it's because it's easier. but maybe there was a deeper meaning. maybe this wasn't the first time she'd thought of zazzalil in that way after all.
Relationships: Jemilla/Zazzalil (Firebringer)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	slowly

**Author's Note:**

> did i write this whole fic because of an idea i had for a tag that i thought would be funny? yes haha. did it spiral far from my original idea? also yes. i don't hate what i wound up with, though, so,,,

When Jemilla was small, she learned that being tribe leader was being caring. Caring, but not without a firm resolve. That was what Molag was, and that was what Jemilla was to become. It wasn’t hard to care, she learned. It was an aspect of leadership that came easily to Jemilla, as most of it did. Because, really, she did care. She cared that Emberly was having a bad day because her new friend had vanished. She cared that Tiblyn was having a hard time because she’d just found out that most of her life had been spent for no reason. She cared that they were all a little down from learning the duck wasn’t an all powerful being.

And yes, she even cared about Zazzalil.

It was a little weird, actually, how much Jemilla found herself caring about Zazzalil. 

It wasn’t the same way she cared about Emberly, or Tiblyn, or any of the other tribe members she cared for on a daily basis. Zazzalil had to see the _firm resolve_ side of Jemilla more often than not, but sometimes Jemilla wished she could see Zazzalil when she was walking with Keeri. Because from afar, she looked so much nicer. Carefree. She smiled more, and Jemilla kind of hated that she always seemed to make Zazzalil mad.

Jemilla realized just how much she cared about Zazzalil when she found out that the idiot had run out into the night, into the storm. Her stomach was twisted in knots and her head was pounding in a way it never had when Tiblyn was aching from her years of futile work. And no matter what was happening, no matter what anyone thought, _Zazzalil had to be okay and Jemilla needed to go and make sure that she was okay_. Because if she wasn’t… Jemilla didn’t know what she’d do.

Zazzalil has to be okay. Otherwise Jemilla won’t be okay. That much she knows. 

And… as much as she cares for and loves Emberly, Jemilla can’t help but wonder if she would feel the same way if Emberly were in immediate danger. It’s a funny feeling, but she doesn’t think she’d be quite as anxious and worried as she was then, when the rain was soaking her clothes and she couldn’t see five feet in front of her face and Zazzalil was nowhere to be found-

But then they find Zazzalil. Zazzalil and her… bright orange stuff. And Jemilla feels a strange flare of something in her chest--relief, surely--but also something like pride? She quickly squashes it. Because it quickly fades in favor of the anger. The: _how dare she leave she knew how dangerous it was and did she have any idea how much it made Jemilla hurt to even imagine Zazzalil being gone forever_. Jemilla doesn’t voice the latter of those concerns. Because she’s pretty sure that a good tribe leader would, at this point, draw the firm resolve side of their persona. Step back, take a breather, calm themselves down. 

The problem comes when Jemilla can’t put a finger on exactly why she’s so upset. It isn’t as if this is out of the normal range of Zazzalil’s trouble-making antics. There was just something about the dangerous aspect to that particular venture that made Jemilla’s head spin. 

Didn’t Zazzalil know how much Jemilla cared? Didn’t she know that Jemilla cared so much she was pretty sure the world would end if it ever had to exist without Zazzalil? 

All of that is information that a good tribe leader keeps to themselves. So she settles for shouting. Shouting things like _recklessness_ and _dangerous_ , and the look of hurt on Zazzalil’s face makes Jemilla think that maybe she should have just taken Zazzalil away from the group and given her a hug. She could have gone for a hug right about then.

Zazzalil takes her turn, and opens her mouth. She unleashes the floodgate of words and what seems to be every negative thing she’s ever thought about of Jemilla. Every previously held back thought gets released into the unforgiving air.

And at the end of the night, Jemilla is alone.

She cries a lot, to begin with. She cries for a lot of reasons, the main being a throbbing in her chest. It doesn’t help that her mind keeps replaying the evening’s events. The look on Zazzalil’s face when Jemilla spoke. The things she said. The things they both said. Jemilla would have much preferred a hug.

Soon enough, though, a new stage kicks in. Jemilla gathers nuts and berries for herself, realizing belatedly that _it is_ harder than it looks, and she begins to learn her first weakness in leadership. Listening.

More than that, though, Jemilla remembers. She lives in her memories. Memories of Schwoopsie making them all laugh, of Emberly proudly showing off her latest creation, of Tiblyn dancing with her hands held to the sky. Most of all she remembers Zazzalil. Zazzalil, small and running around the field as Jemilla frowns and tells her they’re supposed to be gathering long strands of grass for beds, and Zazzalil only laughs and runs faster. Zazzalil demonstrating her fast swimming abilities, doing a pleased jump when she wins the race. Zazzalil in adulthood, dancing around fields with Keeri, which Jemilla only remembers from afar. 

Zazzalil’s smile, the sound of her laugh. The look of disappointment on her face whenever Jemilla was nearby.

In fact, Jemilla remembers more about Zazzalil than she can remember about anyone else, and she finds it a little strange how much she can remember since Zazzalil annoys her so much, but maybe it’s something to do with how much she cares.

Jemilla’s beginning to go down the dark path of questioning if she even cared for Zazzalil more than she cared for _Schwoopsie_ , her own _wife_ , when Clark finds her and takes her back to his village. It’s the most relaxed Jemilla’s been in the week she’s been away from her old tribe, and sure, it feels almost like a temporary fix when Claire is massaging the knot in her shoulder, but _duck_ is it a good distraction. 

She’s just beginning to settle back into her new life with her new tribe when Zazzalil shows up. And Jemilla’s heart is going a mile a minute because Zazzalil is willingly walking _near_ her and she’s asking Jemilla for _help_ and all Jemilla wants to do is wrap the poor girl into a hug and stay there forever. But all Zazzalil’s ever seen is her firm resolve, and it seems silly to show her anything else, since it’s all she’s ever known, so why show her any different? 

Then.

Zazzalil offers to be Jemilla’s wife.

Her inclination is to say yes, of course, because, when she really thinks about it, it is a good idea. _Two_ people in charge. Splitting the workload. How had she never thought of it before?

So she does say yes, and Zazzalil looks happy about it. And Jemilla wonders for the first time, with a flutter in her stomach, if maybe Zazzalil doesn’t hate her as much as Jemilla always thought she did. 

And it’s not until they’re halfway to Snarl’s cave, hands shyly intertwined, that Jemilla wonders if maybe there’s a chance it wasn’t just logical to say yes to Zazzalil’s offer. _Marriage_ is a loose term in the tribe. Once married a person isn’t necessarily bound only to their spouse. But… the more she thinks about it… being married to Zazzalil sounds kind of nice. And… the more she thinks about it… the more it makes sense.

All that time, all those strange stifling feelings, all that attention paid to someone who only ever got on her nerves. 

And maybe it really wasn’t that logical at all to say yes. Is there really something wrong with that?

Jemilla decides there isn’t, because Zazzalil smiles at her and looks at their entangled fingers and says “This is nice,” and Jemilla thinks her heart might explode.

“It is,” is all that gets out over her internal screaming. Because Zazzalil just admitted to enjoying something she was doing with Jemilla, and holy _shit_ that’s never happened before.

They don’t really speak after that unless it’s to plan, but Jemilla can feel something that wasn’t there before. Maybe it’s something to do with the way Zazzalil smiles now whenever she feels Jemilla’s eyes on her, maybe it’s something to do with how easily she leans into Jemilla’s side as they walk. _Forgiveness_ , Jemilla decides, is a way to put it. She’s forgiven Zazzalil from the minute she stepped into Jemilla’s new tribe, so she smiles and leans back into Zazzalil.

It elicits a new sort of calm, being near and touching the other, and they have their spears and plan ready to go before they’ve fully finished absorbing the other. But they have a job to do bigger than themselves, so they set off to find the cave.

Inside it, when Zazzalil asks for Jemilla’s spearhead, Jemilla questions it. Because of course she does. What in the world is Zazzalil thinking?

But then, over the distant shouting of their other tribe members, Zazzalil says, “Trust me,” and Jemilla snaps because she wants to trust Zazzalil. So badly. This seems like a good first step.

And Zazzalil makes fire. Not accidentally gets hit by lightning and gets it. _Makes_ it. Jemilla feels a sputter of pride again at Zazzalil’s creation, and when she smiles up at Jemilla, her eyes wide and sparkling, Jemilla decides that she never wants to let those eyes down again. 

She smiles, and squeezes Zazzalil’s shoulder, and whispers, “Good job,” and she means every bit of it.

Defeating Snarl seems insignificant in the long run. Zazzalil learned how to make fire, that’s mostly what Jemilla took from the experience. And that Grant guy. But mostly Zazzalil. And how beautiful she looked when she was delighted like that. And Jemilla suddenly understands why Keeri’s so complacent, because she too would do everything she possibly can to make sure Zazzalil is happy all the time.

So she proposes. Because it’s a step towards marriage, and that’s what they agreed on, only Zazzalil puts a hand over Jemilla’s ring. No. No? Zazzalil can’t back out of their deal. Not now, not when Jemilla’s finally made sense of every feeling she’s ever had towards her.

Then that girl gets down on one knee herself. And Jemilla is torn between yelling and kissing her. She decides on the latter. She’ll reserve firm-resolve-Jemilla for misbehaving tribe members, not her trickster fiancee.

Sometimes, once Jemilla is Zazzalil’s wife and they’ve been married for a great many moons, Jemilla wondered if she fell in love with Zazzalil slowly, or if she was always in love with Zazzalil, and simply never realized it until that fateful day when she came to the “new” tribe and begged for forgiveness. She can never quite tell, and she always comes to the same conclusion, which is that it doesn’t really matter. She’s in love, and Zazzalil is her wife, so she doesn’t really care if it happened fast or slow. It happened, and that’s enough for Jemilla.

**Author's Note:**

> was in my jazzalil feels and this exists now. tenses are kinda a mess, sorry about that. lightly edited, might go back later and edit more closely. xo


End file.
